


Rising

by Withstarryeyes



Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Fainting, Fever, Hurt Tony Stark, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Nightmares, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Protective Steve Rogers, Sick Tony, Sick Tony Stark, Sickfic, Tony Stark Faints, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Tony Stark Has Issues, Tony Stark Has Nightmares, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, feverish, no infinity war spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-04
Updated: 2018-08-04
Packaged: 2019-06-21 14:42:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,734
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15560013
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Withstarryeyes/pseuds/Withstarryeyes
Summary: Heat is licking up his sides and he groans, feeling his knees turn wobbly, and fumbles his way to the wall of the elevator. The metal is blessedly cool on his forehead and he sighs, eyes burning when he closes them. It’s still dark outside and every fiber of Tony’s being is telling him to go back to bed but he has work to do and plans to make and a blueprint open on his desk in the lab, Fury approved, and he can’t not do his job. So he musters all his strength and pushes off the wall when the elevator lands, ignoring his wet hacking as he moves.He falls before he makes it to the bench, his top coated in sweat, and his eyes shutting to the whirling sensation that takes his breath away and leaves him panting in nauseated gasps. His hand shakes from where it’s planted on the ground, keeping him up.





	Rising

He rises before dawn, the sky casting harsh shadows across his face, the stars highlighting the points. His cheekbones are sharp and pale, and sweat drips down to his eyes. It takes him a few tilting moments to realize his alarm is blaring, blue light flashing into the darkness before he can fumble to turn it off and position his aching limbs into some semblance of a structure capable of moving. 

His knees pop as he gets up, letting the blankets fall off the side to the floor, and he shuffles to the elevator, tank top, and greasy sweatpants from the past few days still on. The pants are a few sizes too big and sit low on his hips, a flash of his stomach peeking out. The chill air raises goosebumps and he wraps his arms across the gap. 

Heat is licking up his sides and he groans, feeling his knees turn wobbly, and fumbles his way to the wall of the elevator. The metal is blessedly cool on his forehead and he sighs, eyes burning when he closes them. It’s still dark outside and every fiber of Tony’s being is telling him to go back to bed but he has work to do and plans to make and a blueprint open on his desk in the lab, Fury approved, and he can’t not do his job. So he musters all his strength and pushes off the wall when the elevator lands, ignoring his wet hacking as he moves. 

He falls before he makes it to the bench, his top coated in sweat, and his eyes shutting to the whirling sensation that takes his breath away and leaves him panting in nauseated gasps. His hand shakes from where it’s planted on the ground, keeping him up. 

His hand gives out next and he feels the ground come up to greet him in a punch to his jaw and cheek, sending tendrils of lucidity into his brain. His eyes pop open, glassy and muddy, to look around. He’s alone here and his hoarse throat is too quiet to shout. F.R.I.D.A.Y doesn’t have the same parameters as JARVIS. 

He’s got a long time here, on the cold, damp floor, with fire burning him from the inside out and his stomach threatening to rebel. But somehow, with twilight above him, he feels his eyes begging to close and he lets them, feeling relief at the scratchy but cool sensation that presses against his pupils. 

After that it’s a swirling pool of blessed darkness, lost consciousness and the cool, constant press of the ground against him.

* * *

 

He wakes not with concentration or clarity but with a chill. He’s shivering and he can feel his teeth clacking with every knock his jaw makes on the floor. There is light filtering through the windows, soft and warm, and yet, he’s still freezing. His clothes are soaked, his shirt riding up half his torso and his sweatpants sticking to the back of his knees. 

His coughs are wet and hacking and the world blurs as he gasps for air, hand clutching his stomach as his dinner threatens to come out. Curling into a ball, his eyes slip shut again and the chill is replaced with the warmth of his mind imploding on itself.

* * *

 

_ Scales slither through, black and glossy, a metallic finish to them. An eye, gold and green and shimmering stares into him, a threat.  _

_ It zooms out as he steps back and a man stands there, he’s bleeding from the abdomen, blood bright against his fingers. Tony stares as it bubbles out in plumes, soaking the top he’s wearing. When he looks back up his face is pale, goatee a stark contrast to the milky complexion. He looks terrified and Tony gulps because the man is him. Behind his shoulder stands a lanky teen, sandy hair, shaking with tears, knees wobbling. It’s Parker.  _

_ “I’m sorry, son,” his doppelganger says before fading away.  _

_ Tony grimaces and turns his face away, hands flying to his face.  _

_ A hand on his shoulder makes him look again and he’s peering into the lab, in ruins. There’s green blood streaked on a couple of vials and a TV playing in the background.  _

_ WARNING, LARGE GREEN MUTANT ON THE LOOSE. DO NOT ENGAGE.  _

_ His tears stick in his throat as the name pops up,  _ **_Bruce_ ** _.  _

_ The tears don’t move and they fill up his throat like a sink.  _

_ Tangy dirt flows over his taste buds and he’s hanging limply from foreign hands, hair too long and shaggy. He’s shivering, water down the front of his shirt, pain in his chest. His throat is raw, his eyes drooping. But he won’t give up.  _

_ He can’t breathe. _

* * *

 

“Tony, Tony breathe,” a voice soothes at Tony as he sputters and hacks, half lifted up by the shoulders.  A warm palm is planted on his back and he groans as he tilts his head back, feeling the surge of warmth come from the contact. 

The hand is large enough to cover half his face and Tony feels it migrate to his forehead, skin soft and cool against his face. He still hasn’t mustered the courage to open his eyes and he leans, blessedly comfortable for a little bit, against the human structure. 

“You’re burning up,” the voice rumbles up through Tony, vibrating where he sits at the person’s hip. 

“Figures,” Tony spits out, dizzy and tired and delirious. He feels fingers move down to his neck, then his shoulders. It’s stabilizing enough that he takes a stab at the sight and opens his eyes. 

It’s blurry and the screenshot dips every few seconds but he’s got enough to a vision to tilt his head to the side, spot golden hair and crystal blue eyes, the red freckle on Steve’s knuckle and the wispy white hair that make up his sideburns. 

“Tony, what were you thinking? How long have you been here?” Steve’s questions come out thick and Tony winces, feeling the wetness that is on his boyfriend’s cheeks. The panic squeaking out in the words between the punctuation. 

“Work, have to…deadline, Fury,” he manages to get out, slurring them so badly he’s unsure Steve can actually understand them. “Feel horrible.”

He whimpers and Steve presses a kiss to the top of his hair. “I know, I know.” He places a hand behind his back and under Tony’s knees before scooping him up. Tony whimpers as his stomach flips and presses his cheek into the soft fabric of Steve’s top. His eyes are burning and his shoulders ache, belatedly he realizes that there’s blood oozing out of his jaw. 

“Tony, you’re bleeding.”

“Fell, felt dizzy.”

Steve pulls in a deep, sharp breath and Tony knows he’s mad. Mad that his boyfriend has the self-preservation skills of a bee, mad that he’s sick, mad that he found him like this. But there’s also fear there and Tony feels the slick spike of guilt go up in tingles from his stomach to his cheeks. He flushes. 

The rocking of Steve’s body as he climbs the stairs is soothing and Tony finds himself too tired to keep his eyes open. It’s nice to sit and be swung and have his eyes hide the sight of his hallucinations in the real world. He falls asleep somewhere in between the lab and upstairs and he’s startled awake when Steve leans him against cold porcelain, hand on his back and leaning to turn the facet to lukewarm. 

“What are you doing?” Tony rasps and winces as it tugs at his throat. 

“Getting your fever down, Tones. You’re really burning up.”

Steve leans over and pulls off his top and Tony takes a moment to rake his eyes over the broad shoulders, constellations of red, Irish freckles blooming across the tops. Steve blushes when he catches Tony’s gaze and it fills Tony with a passionate warmth that he can still embarrass Steve after all these years. 

The pride flags quickly though once Steve turns to help Tony undress. He’s too tired to complain and moans once his dripping shirt is off his body, feeling the shocking cold of the air around him. His sweatpants are sagging down his hips and Steve lifts up one of his hips to snag the pant over one of his feet, caked in grease. By the time he’s bare he’s shivering and half-conscious, sleep nipping at his heels. 

“Can you sit there for a bit?” Steve asks and Tony shakes his head to gain back a little bit of awareness. He nods, once and slowly, but Steve is already stepping into the tub, water sloshing over the top of his knees. He leans over and picks Tony up by the underarms, dragging him the last few feet to the tub. It’s beyond awkward and clumsy but Tony had tried to get his feet under him and had slipped, almost dragging Steve with him, so he had just let Steve drag him the rest of the way unaided. 

The water is a quick shock to his system and he arches his back a light whine erupting from his lips as Steve settles him in the slot between his legs. His large palm settles over the center of Tony’s chest, protecting it from any stray water, while the other curls around his hip. Tony turns his head into Steve’s wet collarbone, nose cold against the skin. 

He peers up with big, brown eyes and Steve gives him a pitiful smile, blue eyes sparkling with sympathy. 

“Cold,” he croaks out and Steve pulls a face but shakes his head. 

“Feels like it but it’s not. You’re just warm, honey.”

“Don’t like it,” he slurs but it’s a sour lie on his lips because Steve is warming him up from behind and he’s so  _ tired _ that he’s dropping off regardless. 

“Bed after, I promise.” Tony hears the words faintly in his ear before he falls off completely and he turns, even more, to be half pressed against Steve. His skin is soft and his hand is rubbing up and down Tony’s back. 

In his last conscious moments he mumbles up in Steve’s direction: “I’m sorry.” cause he is and he knows it needs to be said. 

He’s too far gone to feel Steve press another kiss to his head, dipping down and crooning, “I know. Sleep now, discuss later.”

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you guys liked this!! It's been a hot second since I've written anything lately but I actually really like how this turned out. If you guys liked my work please leave a kudos or a comment. The feedback gives me life. 
> 
> Thanks, much love,  
> C


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